The Games We Play
by Shini02
Summary: Oneshot. It's all fun and games, until someone steals your heart. TigerxFievel.


**Disclaimer:** If I owned it, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction.

**A/N:** I should be dragged out into the street and shot for this one. I really, _really_ should.

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**The Games We Play**

Since Fievel's been enrolled in the local school, weekdays are, for lack of a better term, boring on a mind-numbing level. Tiger spends his time lazing about the old, broken down stagecoach, finding trivial things to keep himself busy until later in the evening when he can meet up with Fievel, after he's finished with his homework. But even so, the few hours spent together just aren't enough – for either of them. Fievel needs more than sixty minutes or more to expand that wild imagination of his to make things interesting, and Tiger needs the same amount of time to snap himself out of the sluggish daze waiting all day puts him in.

It goes without saying that both are ecstatic when the weekends finally arrive. Fievel wakes up early just to hurry to Tiger's stagecoach, often finding the feline already awake and waiting eagerly for him. Today is no different. By noon, they're still playing Hide 'n' Seek, and have been for the last hour and a half. They will continue playing for a few hours still, too, because Green River, as small a town as it is, presents more than enough nooks and crannies for mice and cats to hide in.

"Seventy-eight, seventy-nine," Fievel says loudly as Tiger searches frantically for a good place to hide. The count reaches ninety-five by the time Tiger decides behind the barrel outside the general store is a good a place as any.

"Ninety-eight, ninety-nine."

The cat dives for it, rousing a cloud of dust in the process as he crouches down behind the wooden barrel.

"One hundred!" Fievel spins around a little too quickly on his heels, using the wall behind him to sturdy himself. He gives his surroundings a quick look-over before shouting, "ready or not, Tiger!"

"Re– " Tiger almost gives himself away and slaps a paw over his mouth to keep himself quiet.

Fievel fists his hands on his hips. He knows all the places Tiger wouldn't hide, and he's knows just how far away the cat would wander. That doesn't leave many options open.

Instinct kicks in and he stares ahead at the barrel, canting his head to one side and then the other as he approaches slowly. Leaning just enough to the left, Fievel can see the tell-tale purple tee reflected in the store's drain pipe. That had been too easy, but he doesn't mind because he still gets a laugh in the end.

"Tiger," Fievel calls out, one hand cupped to the side of his mouth to amplify his small voice.

Tiger ducks lower behind the barrel, failing to stifle a smug chuckle; he's certain Fievel will never find him here.

"I can hear you," the mouse chuckles. "Come on out. I know you're there." Standing not a foot from the ingenious hiding spot, he tips the brim of his hat back to gain a better view of the tip of Tiger's tail swaying about anxiously in plain sight.

"Rats," Tiger mumbles, then childishly attempts a glare at the wood in front of him, refusing to budge. "Uh... Wrong barrel. Try again?" The offer is lame, but the best he can come up with.

"Fievel rolls his eyes. He hates having to resort to playing dirty, but sometimes it's the only way. "C'mon, Tige." This is the cat's last chance to play fairly.

Tiger's paw pokes out from behind the barrel, one claw pointing east. "Tiger went thatta way."

"Uh huh," Fievel chuckles again then clears his throat. Tiger's asked for this, so he feels no remorse as he calls out to his best friend again. "Tiger," he sing-songs. "Here, kitty-kitty."

"Ooh," the cat murmurs, then shakes his head. "No. You're better than that," he tells himself, but it doesn't stop him from trying to to knead the wood beneath his claws as he holds onto the barrel.

Fievel can hear the sharp tips of his friend's claws scraping idly against the wood and grins. It's not exactly where he wants Tiger, but at least he's getting to him and it won't take much more to coax him out. "Here, _kitty_," a little louder, drawn out longer, voice pitched higher.

A shiver runs up his spine and Tiger purrs and rubs his cheek against the barrel, eyes closed as he listens to the charming lilt of Fievel's voice. It's alluring and if this keeps up, he'll be lured right out of his hiding spot. Then again, giving up his place behind the barrel might be worth it if he can still listen to his best friend crooning afterward.

"_Kitty-kitty_."

"Not fair," Tiger practically groans as he stumbles out from behind the barrel and to the mouse. "So... not fair."

"I heard Papa say one time that _all's fair in love and war_," Fievel grins up at the cat, proud to have won yet another round of hide and seek.

Not totally coherent at the moment, and not usually so quick with his wit, Tiger can't help but ask in a tone of voice that makes Fievel shiver in turn, "so what're we in? Love or war?"

"War," he replies without hesitance, fighting the urge to wring his tail between his hands. "Obviously." Because Hide 'n' Seek is a game and so is war. Right? "Anyway, it's your turn to count!"

"Obviously," Tiger rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, walking passed Fievel and kicking up small clouds of dust as he does. He looks over his shoulder once, Fievel's already searching for a hiding place before he's started the count. Watching quietly for a few seconds, paying close attention to the way the little one scurries about in such a fashion only a mouse could, Tiger comes to the slow conclusion that, for once, Fievel's wrong. They're not at war at all.

-End


End file.
